


le monde est vénéneux, mon cerveau fait des nœuds (j'me fais à l'idée d'aller jamais mieux)

by Eucalyyptus



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Crying, Gen, Happy Ending (sort of), Panic Attack, Roger's not feeling too good, Self-Hatred, Tearing Magazines Apart bc why not, The boys try to help him at the end, but you can also see a platonic friendship between all of them, trigger warning, up to you, you can sort of see a polyamourous relationship here if you squint enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 10:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18871282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eucalyyptus/pseuds/Eucalyyptus
Summary: He remembers waking up in a bad mood, tired, sick of everything. He remembers the way his chest seemed too tight all day long. He remembers being angry and aggressive against everyone. He feels sick, he wants to throw up, he feels disgusted by himself and he doesn't even know why.Or the one with all the safe-hatred.





	le monde est vénéneux, mon cerveau fait des nœuds (j'me fais à l'idée d'aller jamais mieux)

**Author's Note:**

> what's up folks!!!  
> i'm back with some queen stuff! i missed you!!  
> it's been in my drafts since... forever and i wanted to post something so here you go.  
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: panic attack, lots of crying/hyperventilating, self-hatred, dark thoughts  
> ^please don't read if you're triggered by any of this  
> oh, story's title is a french song, "san" by orelsan. lovely stuff  
> see you at the end, hope you enjoy it!

He doesn't remember what triggered him. He remembers waking up in a bad mood, tired, sick of everything. He remembers the way his chest seemed too tight all day long. He remembers being angry and aggressive against everyone. He feels sick, he wants to throw up, he feels disgusted by himself and he doesn't even know why.

He drinks his vodka in one easy sip. It burns his mouth and he can feel it sliding down his throat. He can barely hear the music around him, can barely see everyone around him. They're dancing and talking loudly, enjoying Freddie's party. People always love Freddie's parties. They're always loud and amazing - Roger can't deny it, no. He, himself, like them, most of the time. Just not today.

He feels someone's eyes on him. He secretly hopes that it's one of the boys, but when he turns his head, he meets some foreign eyes. A girl, with dark, straight hair, glossy lips and dark eyes. She's smirking seductively but Roger's body doesn't react at all. He feels almost disgusted - and that's so rare for him that he doesn't know how to handle those negative feelings.

He guesses he spaced out because when he remembers that he's at the party, the girl is on his lap, blabbing about something he doesn't care. He avoids his eyes, looks around them - hoping to catch Brian or John. He knows they would help... but they aren't anywhere near. The girl keeps talking. He excuses himself, stands up clumsily. He feels gradually sicker and sicker. He takes another vodka. Unsurprisingly, he doesn't feel better.

His head is spinning so hard he can't ignore it anymore. Is it because he drank too much? He's not sure. He has to go back home... to go back somewhere safe. He doesn't know why but tears are soon filling up his eyes. His vision is all blurry, his mind is foggy and his body is hurting a bit. He can't say precisely where it hurts, but it does.

_what a mess he is_

He probably embarrasses his friends. If they can see him. Nobody seems to notice him. Yet... He feels sorry. If only he just... wasn't-

There's someone in front of him, talking about music.

Roger looks up and blinks. He tries his best to smile but it's a pale copy of his usually cheeky smile. It's nowhere close the face he makes on normal days. He knows it. He excuses himself again, explaining quickly that he feels sick, that he can't say.

It's enough and soon, fresh air is hitting his skin. Hard. He's shaking a little bit but he feels better. It's calming down the nauseous feeling and the banging in his head. His legs are shaky too but he's sure it's not because of the cold.

There's a voice in his head that sounds just like Brian. _Take a deep breath_ , it says. He does. _Good, good, Roger, again._ He repeats his action. _Yes, here. Feel how your chest is expanding... thoughts are just thoughts, let them go when you notice them._ He tries his best to do just as the voice says. It's enough to calm him down. Thinking that Brian is at least there, in his mind, is a soothing thought and he decides to keep it in mind, just this one. He acknowledges the others, but doesn't think more about them; he lets them go. It works.

He pushes the bridge of his sunglasses to keep them on his nose and starts to walk. The sky is already completely dark and the streets are barely visible because of the slight rain, restricting the lamp streets' yellow halos. His face is wet, his hair too, sticking at his skin. He probably looks crazy. He feels crazy anyways.

He wraps his arms around himself. The cold isn't great anymore. He doesn't know why he feels so... so... weird today but it's pissing him off more and more. He takes a minute to focus on his thoughts and his feelings... the only thing he finds is that he wants to sleep. He wants to sleep through the entire night and then, maybe, the next day... again and again. He feels too tired of everything.

Without noticing it, he reaches his small flat. For now, he's living there, on his own. He's supposed to move with everyone in a big flat in a few weeks. Just this idea warms his heart... but it's quickly replaced by this awful feeling. He really can't beat that, can he?

Probably not in this state.

He opens his door after a few seconds. His flat is warm but it looks sad and empty, even with his belongings everywhere. The couch which usually looks comfortable now looks cold and lonely. Nothing looks like it did the day before.

Roger sits down on the carpet. He takes off his shoes, his coat, throws them somewhere. And then, he lies down, trying to unbutton his shirt and giving up at the last button because his arms are hurting him too much to keep trying.

He just lays there, useless, quiet.

That's the right word.

He feels **useless**.

Now that he thinks about it, he failed dentistry. Well, more exactly, he got bored with it. Still the same, he gave up. Biology isn't truly what he wants to do. And he's not even that good of a musician.

He feels like he's letting everyone down. His parents. His friends. His bandmates. They deserve to have someone at least as good as them! And... that's not him.

"Fuck." He growls, rolling on his side, his arm around his stomach. Big, fat tears start rolling down his face. He wants to throw up. He's disgusted. He hates this, he hates everything. Why can't he just be perfect? Why does he have to be such a failure?

It's the first time he feels this bad. Will this sick feeling ever go away? It feels like it's meant to stay. He hopes not. He can't take it anymore.

He hates feeling like that. It's driving him crazy, really; he's a lucky lad, Roger. His life isn't as bad as it could have been. Others have it rougher than he... and yet he is in this state? It doesn't make any sense and it makes him cry harder. Why is he being so dramatic? There's nothing wrong!

As too often, he's too stimulated - this time by sadness when it's usually frustration - by his own feelings. This softly transforms into anger. He can feel it bubbling in his stomach, burning and cruel. The tears are hurting his eyes a little bit and he's grimacing without knowing it.

He sits up sharply. Too fast. He closes his eyes, frowns. Throwing up wouldn't be good. Is he this weak, really?

Everything seems to happen just to piss him off a little bit more.

"Fuck it, fuck it, fuck off..." He starts mumbling, extending his arm to grab at the magazines on his couch. And he tears them apart, one by one, sending pieces of paper flying all around him. It feels already a little bit more right. It feels almost good. He likes it. His thoughts are still there but it's helping with his anger, so he keeps going. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

He's panting when he finishes to destroy them. He's still shaking hard. At least, he doesn't feel that angry anymore. He's just so, so... so tired. Exhausted. He feels dead and numb. At the same time, it feels like too much.

He presses his hands against his eyes. His skin is all wet. Because of the rain. And because of his tears. He's still crying, not quietly anymore. He lets out small whines, pathetic, awful whines. He's sobbing out loud. He's so pathetic.

He's a burden. He's just a burden in everyone else's life. Truly. What does he bring them? He's just a little prick. An angry, boring, exhausting cunt.

His thoughts are coming at him all at the same time, negative and dark. It looks like they're torturing him. He's hyperventilating now and he can't stop crying. If only he had Brian's cleverness... or John's coolness, or even Freddie's confidence. Just... something else, something that isn't him... or just something that could get him out of this situation.

He's scared. His breathing is fast and loud and he's still sobbing so hard. He's unconsciously pulling at his hair and scratching himself. His chest hurts. His body hurts. His mind hurts.

He can't even hear his own thoughts now, he's too loud. He probably isn't that loud but it's all he can hear for now.

And then, there's a big noise, somewhere.

And Freddie's there, above him, looking shocked.

"Oh, dear, Roger!" He says, loudly, and almost instantly, he's sitting next to him, and he gently put Roger's head on his lap.

Roger can't believe it. He's crying even more. Freddie doesn't get it. He tries to caress his hair, but Roger's hands are still pulling at them and he even scratches unvoluntary Freddie's hands.

"Darling, calm down, please, it's okay, everything is fine!" He tries again. He's not sure about this effect, Roger seems so far away.

He doesn't know what to do. Roger isn't calming down. Now that Freddie is this close, he can see how awfully pale and wet he is. His shirt is almost unbuttoned and there are clothes and papers scattered all around. And Roger is crying and shaking and hyperventilating.

Freddie looks at the phone next to the couch, wondering if he should call an ambulance.

That's when Brian and John appear above both of them.

John's face is grave and he looks ready to act as if he discovered it a long time ago, but it's not the case. Brian, well, Brian looks deadly worried.

Roger puts his biceps against his eyes, trying to hide... whatever there is to hide, but the awful sounds he's making are enough to describe the situation.

"What should we-" John starts, trying to contain his concern.

Brian doesn't answer, but he pulls Roger, forcing him to sit down in front of him. He has his hands on his cheeks and they're soon completely wet because of Roger's tears.

"Roger. Rog. Look at me, please."

Roger can hardly focus on him. But he tries. He knows Brian wants to help him. He knows they all do.

He doesn't deserve it.

"N-no..." He croaks. His voice is hoarse and shaking and awful. He's so ashamed. "Lea... Leave... Leave m-me."

Brian frowns. Freddie puts a gentle hand on Brian's back and pushes him forward.

He understands.

But he's worried about Roger's reaction.

"Rog, look at me. It's just me, okay? Brian? Can I touch you, Rog?" He's not sure about what he is doing, but John mumbles that it's a good idea, behind him.

Roger's eyes keep sliding on the carpet between their legs. He can't focus on anything. His mind is gonna explodes. He can't. He can't. It's too much. Something is wrong with him. What's wrong with him? He can't breathe. He can't breathe. He can't breathe.

John and Freddie are suddenly at both of his sides. Brian slowly wraps an arm around Roger.

No reaction.

He puts the second around him and softly pulls him closer.

A shaky hand grabs his shirt.

"Roger, dear, calm down, please. Everything is alright." Freddie says softly. He doesn't dare to touch him yet. Brian's touch is already hard for Roger. He doesn't know if he can take it, but his brain registers the contact.

"We're here, Rog. There's nothing wrong." This is John's voice.

Brian pulls him into a complete hug against his chest. Roger's breathing is getting faster again. Too fast. Brian looks at his friends with worried eyes. John takes a big breath.

Brian's eyes are suddenly shining.

"Roger, Roger, listen to me, darling." He tries, his hands gently caressing his back. "Can you hear me breathing?" He asks, knowing that Roger is close enough to feel his breathing pattern. "Okay, focus on me, okay?"

He takes deep, calm breaths, trying his best to make them loud and clear. He feels Roger tensing up against him, but he's sure he has stopped crying. Still, Roger's face is hidden in the crook of his neck.

"You got the rhythm, Roger?" He asks again, concerned that it might not be working.

"The rhythm... Roger, this is like a beat. Focus. Boom Boom. Slow." John says, and there's a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"This is a song, dear. Music." Freddie adds. And, with a slight frown, he continues. "Take a breath when I say 'hey', and let it go when I say 'oh'. How does that sound?" Roger doesn't answer.

Freddie still starts. He gently says a long 'hey'. Brian takes a breath. He can feel Roger is doing the same, even though his breath is ragged and he still whines a bit. And then, the 'oh'. They both let go.

"Wonderful. Again, dear, you're doing great. Keep going. Heeeeeeeey..." Freddie's face is slowly lighting up. Roger isn't shaking as much as he did a few minutes ago. He's following Brian's breathing and Freddie's voice. "Ooooh..."

"4." John suddenly says. "Do it again, Fred."

"Heeeeeeeeeeey..."

"1. 2. 3. 4. And out." John commands. Brian complies. Roger too.

"Oooooh..."

"1. 2. 3. 4. And in. Keep the beat, Rog."

"Heeeeeeey..."

They do it again and again and again. Roger calms down, eventually. He's still not completely fine after an hour, but, in the end, they were all doing the 'hey oh's together, all counting in their heads, following John's fingers - he kept the beat against the floor.

Roger is still slightly shaking, but he's not crying and hyperventilating anymore.

Brian is still caressing his back and holding him close. Roger feels exhausted and tired and his entire body is completely sore.

"Sing, please..." He asks. His voice is broken, ugly. But they don't mind.  
Brian is raking his head to find something, anything. He feels like singing something high wouldn't do it. If Roger could feel the vibrations provoked by his low voice...

" _I give her all my love, that's all I do.._." He starts clumsily singing. The Beatles. He really only had that in mind.

Roger closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Brian too. The tall man takes it as a good sign.

Freddie slowly stands up and turns towards John to help him stand up. They both disappear in Roger's bedroom - Brian can say they're preparing the bed a little bit more, already knowing they would have to put him into bed. They don't mind it at all.

" _And if you saw my love, you'd love her too... and I love her..._ " He continues. Roger vaguely hums along.

Brian's voice is vibrating through his body in a very soothing way. He can't help liking it and feeling even more sleepy.

" _She gives me everything, and tenderly... the kiss my lover brings, she brings to me... and I love her..._ " He knows by now that it won't take long for Roger to fall asleep. His body is giving up more and more. He's not tensed anymore.

" _A love like ours could never die... as long as I have you near me._ "

His words are now going straight to Roger's heart, warming him up completely. It's a real treat for someone like him with a musical ear.

" _Bright are the stars that shine, dark is the sky... I know this love of mine will never die. And I love her..._ "

That's the last thing Roger hears.

He tries to keep his eyes open, and it eventually works a little bit. He feels Brian lifting him up. When he cracks an eye open, he sees that they're all in his tiny bed, pressed against each other. He is all against Freddie's strangely still covered chest. He's almost sure John is behind him. Their legs are tangled up together and his arm is around him. There's also Brian's long arm around Freddie and him. His fingers are probably brushing against John's bicep.

He's incredibly warm. It's not a bad feeling.

They're not all asleep. Freddie visibly notices that he isn't, because he starts humming the beginning of an Elvis Presley's song - Roger can't remember the name. He can't try any harder because, once again, he falls back asleep.

-o-

There's someone humming not so far from him. Everything is calm, warm and peaceful. It smells like tea and pancakes. Roger doesn't want to open his eyes yet. Instead, he takes his time to remember what happened the previous day.

He can't stop the small smile on his lips.

Today seems like a better day already.

"Rog?"

He finally opens his eyes.

He's facing John, messy hair and tired eyes, gentle smile and warm arms. He's holding him lazily. It's already quite much when it comes to John.

"Hey..." He says. His voice is even worse than it was the day before. All cracked and hoarse. He grimaces a little bit but John's smile grows bigger.

"How do you feel, today?" John carefully asks, even though they both know he already scanned Roger's face twice, trying to find any sign about his current state. Roger is flattered. He can't help thinking he likes him. They all like him. He feels loved.

There's a tiny, cold voice in his head. It whispers the opposite.

He ignores it. "I... fine... I think." He's hesitant. He doesn't know if he should hide anything to them now - they seem so invested, so glad to help him out...

John looks worried for a second. He presses his lips in a line. "It's okay if you don't feel perfect today, you know? We'll be there no matter what." Roger looks down at the blanket. A lock of hair falls on his forehead. John's hand moves to put it behind his ear with a smile. "I'm serious, Rog. That's what friends are for, right? Fred would say it's like being married; we'll be there for the best and the worst."

Roger feels himself blush. He can't stop it. He feels a bit embarrassed. He doesn't want them to worry about him... he doesn't want to be a burden.

But he knows thinking like that isn't good. And John knows it too.

"Come on, give me a smile. It's gonna be okay, Roger. We're there."

Roger closes his eyes, let the words sink down. He takes a deep breath. "Yeah... yeah. Okay. We're gonna all be fine." He finally says with a shy smile.

John gives him his brightest smile and it warms Roger's heart up.

**Author's Note:**

> hiyaaaaa  
> hope you liked it, truly. leave it a kudo, a comment, whatever you want to let me know your thoughts  
> you can find me on twitter at @ringzisasavage :)  
> also: i've never had a panic attack, or saw someone having one and having to help in any way but i research a lot about it, please tell me if anything is wrong!  
> love you all, take good care of yourselves :)


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